Private Beach
by Petronia
Summary: Futurefic in the "Flor de Yemanjá" universe. Tezuka and Yuuta compare notes over coffee.


**Private Beach**

_Tanabata '04 Challenge: sesameseed_

Yuuta couldn't seem to stop stirring his latte. The bottom of the cup was gritty with undissolved sugar, and despite his best efforts at keeping a steady hand the spoon clinked continually against the side. Clink, clink, clink.

"So when did you – I mean – how long?" That brought back mental images. Oh God no, no more mental images. He didn't think he could take it.

"Junior high," Tezuka said.

"Oh my God," Yuuta said. "Oh my God."

"But if you're referring to a formal relationship – or what I myself consider such – then just over two years."

"But then what were you – isn't that after you – _no._ Don't answer that. Give me a minute." Yuuta dropped the spoon in his saucer, put his elbows on the glass tabletop and his head in his hands. The TV on the bar inside went to commercial break, and the familiar Ponta jingle drifted out into the ensuing silence. _Mada mada_ was right; _mada mada_ was about how it was.

"This is an open terrace," Yuuta said finally, somewhat muffled. "Do you just walk around like this all the time? Aren't you afraid of being _spotted?_"

"Not at the moment," Tezuka said. Yuuta looked up in time to see him unfold and put on a pair of tinted Gucci shades. He nodded at Yuuta's uncomprehending stare, indicating something behind Yuuta's shoulder. Yuuta turned.

"Oh hell," he said after a moment. "Is that _Atobe Keigo?_ It _is!_" He halfway stood, craning for a better look. Strobe flashes were going off across the street like localised fireworks, and a crowd began to gather at the hotel entrance. Security appeared out of nowhere to cordon off the area. Cars backed up behind the glossy hulk of a stretch limo and were waved off. By the time the brightest star in Toshiba-EMI's pop firmament and his gaggle of black-clad bodyguards had made their way up the red carpet (where the hell did it come from?) and been engulfed within the hotel foyer, the media frenzy at the door was approaching brawl proportions.

"This is incredibly surreal," Yuuta said. Tezuka sipped his tea, not even shrugging. He waited until Yuuta had sat back down again, then:

"I'd like to extend my apo—" Yuuta was shaking his head before the sentence had ended.

"'S fine," he said. "Look, don't—"

"—logies regarding yesterday. If I'd known the apartment was yours—"

"No, seriously," said Yuuta, "don't apologize." Was the guy really that clueless? Had he somehow managed to miss the fact that Shuusuke never did anything inadvertently since – _oh God_ – junior high? For that matter, how could he just _sit_ there and talk about it like the weather? _I sit on that sofa to play_ video games, _you bastards._ "I'd rather not discuss yesterday in any detail, to be honest."

"I imagine it came as something of a shock."

"Ahaha," said Yuuta, and chugged his latte. It was too sweet even for him. He set the cup down, drummed his fingers against the table for a few seconds, then looked Tezuka straight in the eye.

"Why?" he asked. "You know people think you jumped off a bridge or something." Tezuka didn't answer for a moment.

"Shuusuke said you're working for Sony," he said eventually. Yuuta blinked in startlement. _Shuusuke..._

"Gaming console hardware division," he specified automatically. Tezuka nodded.

"He said you were brilliant. That you'd found your niche and would be leading projects in a year or two." Yuuta's jaw worked for a moment, but no sound came out.

"_Aniki_ said that," he managed finally. Tezuka almost-smiled.

"Twenty-nine is young for chief engineer," he said. "It's nearly over the hill for a tennis player, especially one with an injury-plagued history. To answer your question."

Yuuta blinked again, not knowing quite what to say.

"The last inflamed tendon was the trigger. There were personal issues; my grandfather died not long before Wimbledon... Your brother had something to do with it as well." Tezuka paused. "Have you ever seen him take photographs? Professionally, I mean."

"Uh. Well, yes..."

"I hadn't. In fact we hadn't really kept in touch since high school, except through third parties. I ran into him by accident, in Nassau." Tezuka gazed into his cup as if seeing something entirely other than dregs of dark brown liquid. "That was before the media began to term it a 'disappearance'. I'd told myself I needed time to think... The beach was supposed to be private, but he was there. Standing in the surf... He had a zoom lens on his camera that was longer than his forearm. If I hadn't known him I would have said he wouldn't be able to lift it all day."

He stopped short, seemingly to order his thoughts. After a minute of complete silence Yuuta shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh," he said. Tezuka looked up and gave his almost-smile again.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't think I've ever told anyone this story. To make it short, at that point I had several revelations. The most relevant one was that I no longer had anything to prove to myself in my field. Nor was I interested in proving anything to others, given which I saw no reason to provide the public with an account of my motivations."

"So that's why you just – walked? Never came back, never bothered to explain why?"

Tezuka nodded briefly. Yuuta sighed and ran his hands through his hair absently, mussing it. "That kind of thing makes the news channels go insane."

"In retrospect it was a strategic misstep, yes."

"Misstep, hell. You're a bloody _legend._ Forever unbeatable – God, can you imagine what Echizen must feel about it?" Yuuta himself had inadvertently dined out on the basis of the fact that Echizen Ryouma had kicked his ass at tennis, that one time in junior high. The experience'd made him very glad that he hadn't seen fit to mention his brother's tenure on that storied Seishun Gakuen championship team.

"I can do better than imagine," Tezuka said. "It makes it more interesting for him. He'll eclipse both his father's and my records all the faster." A cellphone rang loudly then, making Yuuta jump. Tezuka merely fished it out of his pocket and flipped it open, putting it to his ear.

"Tezuka desu. Yes. Yes." A pause. "I don't know." A longer pause. "Do you want to talk to him? ...I see. I'll try. Yes. No more 'flavour enhancers', though, for all our sakes." Another pause. "Yes, so I've been told. I'll see you." He pressed the end call button and looked at Yuuta. "Your brother would like you to come to dinner."

Yuuta gave a snort of weary laughter. _Fumigation, my left foot. Jerk._ "Is he cooking?"

"I think he'll behave for the time being," Tezuka said. Yuuta stared at him. A fanciful gamut of questions ran through his mind, beginning with _I'm related, but what's _your _excuse?_

"You know," he said finally, "I remember when Shuusuke went to Nassau. He told everyone he was taking a vacation. A year later his 'vacation' photos were all over that Yamamoto Hisashi novel, the prize-winning one. Then he told everyone it was a lucky sell. Last I heard they wanted him to consult on the movie." He paused. "Come to think of it, nobody really knows anything about this Yamamoto person. It's a pen name and he doesn't give interviews. Funny, that."

"Indeed," said Tezuka. "What are you going to do now?" Yuuta sighed.

"Go to dinner, I suppose. Can I get one thing straight here?"

"Go ahead."

"I'm the nice one."

"I know," Tezuka said. "I'll get the bill."

* * *

_— Montreal, July 2004_

Notes:

1. The title comes from a Chara ballad. The song isn't intended as a soundtrack to the fic (which is not exactly filled with floaty-sparkly _saudade,_ shall we say XD), nor are the lyrics particularly relevant – but if you're reading this you'll have read the fic, and will grok me when I say it's obliquely written around another, (as yet?) non-existent story. The song may serve as inspiration for _that._


End file.
